These flowers were supposed to still the withering

While I withered,

they  were to blossom

Maybe I grew jealous

So I drowned them

regretted it

drained them

And drenched again

They withered, I wither

I used to call my withering, “my annual moment”

When my throat throbs with tears held back in public,

the inability to cry in private

When comfort is binging

and binging makes me wither

Withering is no longer annual,

it is inescapable reality

Where I drown and drain, drown and drain

with utter,

boundless futility

These flowers- like me- are tired.

No need for water.

Just withering…

…and death.

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– vapour

sometimes I grieve for you,

for me

for confidence crushed

the optimist that died

sometimes I grieve for my soul.

for where there used to be light-

numbness has taken hold

sometimes I grieve for the life we created.

-and that grief is unbearable-

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A crooked smile,
stretched across the horizon.
A crack of light,
a facade of warmth.
Rain clouds gathered,
within the windows of her soul.
Scars of heavenly abode,
hung across her face.
by the world.
Storm clouds gather in her mind,
and thunder cracked billow from her lips.
Setting fire to the world,
and her tears to extinguish words.
Before it ever reached,
a deaf earth.
And with a crooked smile,
and a dim light,
stretched across the horizon,
she gave her heart away.
And all that remained,
fragmented memories,
of a beautiful sunset.



i was told i am lost boy,
that there’s a vacancy in my eyes,
where belonging and direction ought to rest.
That i search for myself in every person i meet,
and every word dripping from my honey sweetened lips were poison to my soul.
i was told that my conversations with mere mortals were actually conversations with the gods.
and that the divine spoke in languages only souls could understand.
But still i am a walking contradiction,
looking for love of the unknown,
yet fearing to never find an anchor for my soul.
i am a hopeless romantic,
running after the illusions of this world.
Run lost boy i was told,
away from all of reality that began to unfold.
And so i search for Neverland in every doe eyed lover i meet.
Only to find that our souls are the oceans of the unknown.
Beautiful and calm,
and sometimes a storm ladened vortex producing shipwrecks and broken hearts contained in the carcasses of our ribcages.
And years later those very remnants of rib cages, finds buried within itself treasure troves of love.
And so when love finds its way onto your shores,
do not bury it.
But rather take it out to sea,
and brave the storms.
Maybe it will be that shipwrecks and a broken compass have never been so beautiful.
and that the vacancy in my eyes was actually a mirage of the depths of my soul yearning to be explored.
And one day it will be just you, the ocean and this lost boy.

Ghost Ship

My rib cage a ghost ship                                                                                                                      where once a soul resided.                                                                                                                  Haunting’s of past loves come like spirits in the dark crevices.                                                  Creaks on floorboards where once my the footprints of others laden the hallways.              Paintings of forgotten memories hung askew on the walls,                                                         nailed in by love and hurt,                                                                                                                  and worn over time.                                                                                                                              Tattered sails adorning the mantle,                                                                                                   as the wind plays a melancholic soliloquy sounding through the surface                               amplified by the unnerving ocean.                                                                                                   Below deck                                                                                                                                                                      there are holes seeping water,                                                                                     but afloat this ships stays.                                                                                                                   Its compass                                                                                                                                                                       misplaced                                                                                                                       and its true north long since forgotten.                                                                                           It merely steers with the currents,                                                                                                                            and the winds of change.                                                                                             From time to time,                                                                                                                                 lanterns are lit,                                                                                                                                      and a warm glow is emitted                                                                                                                                        to even the that of the decks.

And such is the mirage of the ocean,                                                                                                where the foolish hearted reside.

This ghost ship in search of its long lost                                                                                                                     treasure.

This rib cage in search of its long lost                                                                                                                          soul.


Longing for the clouds,
he stares at the bare
blue skies,
heart beats quick,

Wandering/Wondering soul lost in revelry


I was lost.
And you were gone eternal.
You blew the whistle.
Whilst i still play the game.
The sun turned grey.
And the moon lost its shimmer.
An abyss beckoned.
And the world ceased its glory.
That ruby rose glass.
And seeping elixir.
To the nothingness from which it came.
But restoring a void.
Of soliloquies.
Lettered drafts.
Of conquests of love, and of war.
Oh how grand the gesture.
That fear consumes.
I was lost.
I am lost.
Now, in the conquests of love,
and of war.
And solace is what i have found.

Wandering/Wondering soul lost in revelry

Fountain of Youth

Write me a river,
who’s bed is forgotten memories.
And the water black,
filled by ink.
Yet beautiful,
the sound,
of flowing life,
coursing through my veins.
So write me a river,
in which i can drown my thoughts.
With insomnia feeding the night,
and dreams are nothing but reality.
Oh how beautiful the sound,
of the black water flowing,
the elixir of lives.
write me a river,
to flow from the fountain youth.

Wandering/Wondering soul lost in revelry

No Name

There you were,
a thousand miles away.
With doe eyed innocence,
and a devilish smile.
Time stood still,
yet left me behind.
With a clouded mind,
and tear dropped sky.
A crooked smile,
and hazy memories.
Surrounded by blurred faces,
and sharp minds.
A hopeless Wonderer,
a mindless Wanderer.
There you were,
like a picture.
There you were,
and all I needed to know that you didn’t forget my name.